


Idle Hands and All That

by Lurlur



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Communication, Consent, Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Frottage, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kink Negotiation, Kinktober 2020, Light Masochism, M/M, Masochist Crowley (Good Omens), Relationship Negotiation, Spanking, Sub Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: Aziraphale stared at his hand as though it had become possessed, holding it away from his body as if to distance himself from this part of his anatomy. The palm was pink and stinging already, absolute proof of what Aziraphale had just done.Even with his focus on his errant hand, Aziraphale saw Crowley’s movement out of the corner of his eye. He had frozen in place initially but now turned slowly on the spot, spinning on the balls of his feet until he was facing Aziraphale. Aware that he was standing, Aziraphale had no recollection of getting up from his chair.“Did you-” Crowley said quietly, apparently unable to finish the thought. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up into his hair for a moment before resettling them on his nose. “Did you just spank me?” His tone was as incredulous as the tumult of thoughts in Aziraphale’s head.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946860
Comments: 13
Kudos: 205
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Idle Hands and All That

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Vgersix's kinktober prompt "Spanking"

Aziraphale stared at his hand as though it had become possessed, holding it away from his body as if to distance himself from this part of his anatomy. The palm was pink and stinging already, absolute proof of what Aziraphale had just done.

Even with his focus on his errant hand, Aziraphale saw Crowley’s movement out of the corner of his eye. He had frozen in place initially but now turned slowly on the spot, spinning on the balls of his feet until he was facing Aziraphale. Aware that he was standing, Aziraphale had no recollection of getting up from his chair.

“Did you-” Crowley said quietly, apparently unable to finish the thought. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up into his hair for a moment before resettling them on his nose. “Did you just _spank_ me?” His tone was as incredulous as the tumult of thoughts in Aziraphale’s head.

“No,” said Aziraphale on reflex, still not looking at Crowley, “I mean, yes. Maybe? I really don’t know.”

His palm now bore the clear impression of Crowley’s back pocket where he had struck it. Nothing about what had just happened made any sense and Aziraphale wasn’t accustomed to not understanding the world.

Crowley’s fingers closed around Aziraphale’s wrist, tugging his hand down and jolting Aziraphale into meeting his gaze. His face was unreadable, even to Aziraphale who has thousands of years of practice. The moment felt heavy, pregnant with potential for disaster or humour. Aziraphale tried to laugh, hoping to nudge the scales towards a favourable outcome, but it came out strangled and weak.

“I walked past your chair, telling you that I was going to head out for a bit to cause some mischief, and you _spanked_ me so hard that your palm is still stinging,” said Crowley, calm and low. “That’s my recollection, at least.”

Barely managing a nod, Aziraphale felt the situation slipping away from him. This new aspect of their relationship was so new. The touching and kissing, the cuddling, the intimacy, the enthusiastic lovemaking. He didn’t want to lose it just because of one idiotic impulse.

“I am so sorry, my dear,” he began, “I don’t know what came over me but I can assure you that it won’t happen again. I really am most dreadfully sorry.”

The hand that he wasn’t mad at fluttered impotently between them as he fought the desire to touch and soothe Crowley, feeling utterly certain that his touch would not be welcomed.

Crowley’s grip on his other wrist tightened and he stepped closer until Aziraphale could feel the heat of Crowley’s body and the gentle flow of his breath against his neck.

“And what if I wanted you to do it again?” Crowley asked in a whisper.

The question was so unexpected that Aziraphale forgot to breathe as he turned it over in his mind. He had read Crowley’s reaction as irritation, annoyance, or even anger, but once he allowed himself to examine the memory more thoroughly he could see the arousal and desire that Crowley had exhibited before pushing it down, most likely so as not to startle Aziraphale.

There was a worry still niggling at him, gnawing at the part of his brain that loved to overthink and fret. Aziraphale knew that if he didn’t give it voice now, he would bottle it up until it exploded and tore a hole in their fledgeling relationship.

“Is this because you think you deserve punishment?” he asked, as quietly as he dared, “I won’t act out some divine retribution fantasy with you, you’re perfect as you are.”

Crowley managed to laugh and groan in one confusing sound and dropped his forehead to Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing like that, I promise,” Crowley said, lifting his head enough to kiss Aziraphale’s neck just above his collar, “I just like it, I liked it when you hit me. I think I would like it if you hurt me a bit.”

Agreeing with Crowley’s apparent decision that this conversation would work best if they couldn’t see each other’s faces, Aziraphale burrowed into the crook of Crowley’s neck and drew him in against his chest. He tried to understand what Crowley was asking for and how comfortable he was with providing it.

Perhaps sensing Aziraphale’s continued hesitance, Crowley slid his free hand up the back of Aziraphale’s neck until his fingers were buried in the curls at the base of his skull. His lips pressed into Aziraphale’s skin, kissing his throat and under his jaw, as his fingers grip and tug at Aziraphale’s hair to move his head.

Sucking in a hissing breath of sharp arousal, Aziraphale understood at once. Clever Crowley, finding a way to show him how closely linked pain and pleasure could be.

“I see,” he said once he trusted his voice again, “I suppose I’ll close the bookshop then.”

Crowley released his hold of Aziraphale’s wrist and snapped his fingers. The door locked and the sign flipped itself in the window. A moment later, the blinds all unfurled to give them further privacy.

“Done,” he said, holding Aziraphale even closer.

“You eager thing,” Aziraphale chided, keeping his tone playful, “shall I put you over my knee right now? Is that what you need?”

Crowley only groaned in response, pushing his hips forward and letting Aziraphale know exactly how affected he was by this turn of events.

Reluctantly, Aziraphale removed himself from Crowley’s embrace and, after kissing him soundly, went to sit in the middle of the old sofa. He looked at Crowley expectantly as he smoothed out his trousers and patted his thighs.

A crimson blush blossomed on Crowley’s face, colouring him from his throat to his hairline, and his jaw was compulsively clenching. Aziraphale recognised the signs of Crowley working himself up to taking a leap and let him come in his own time. To his surprise, Crowley kicked off his boots, wriggled out of his jeans and set aside his sunglasses before approaching. Clad in just his shirt and underwear, Crowley climbed onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and lowered himself over his lap.

“Is this alright?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale runs one hand down Crowley’s back from his neck to the gentle curve of his arse.

“Oh yes, I should say so,” Aziraphale said, “you shall have to tell me if I’m too rough, or perhaps not rough enough.”

Crowley groaned and pressed his erection into Aziraphale’s thigh. Thus encouraged, Aziraphale brought his hand down in an arc and smacked Crowley firmly on one buttock. The resulting squeak and wriggle that Crowley gave was immensely gratifying and didn’t lose its appeal no matter how many times Aziraphale wrung the reaction out of him.

After a few minutes of careful strikes and enthusiastic feedback, Aziraphale was curious about the state of Crowley’s backside. He tucked his fingertips under the waistband of Crowley’s underwear.

“May I?” he asked, his other hand stroking the small of Crowley’s back.

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed, lifting his hips to help Aziraphale rid him of his underwear.

His buttocks were a beautiful pink and almost hot to the touch. Aziraphale let his fingers trail over the sore skin, enjoying the muted gasps and whines that Crowley was making at each contact.

Experimentally, he scratched one fingernail over the meat of Crowley’s arse. A red welt rose in its wake and Crowley yelped, grinding himself harder into Aziraphale’s thigh.

“Did you like that?” Aziraphale asked, keeping his voice free of judgement.

Crowley could only nod, having grabbed a pillow from the sofa and burying his face in it.

“Would you like some more?”

Again, Crowley nodded, whining pitifully as Aziraphale dug his fingers into the other cheek.

“Are you going to rub yourself against my thigh while I spank you, rub until you make a mess?”

Crowley turned his head enough to crack one eye at Aziraphale, clearly seeking reassurance that he was allowed what he wanted. The smile that Aziraphale gave him must have done the trick as Crowley nodded once more and rocked his hips with intent.

Aziraphale smacked Crowley’s rear, startling them both with the difference in sound and sensation now that Crowley’s underwear was bunched by his knees.

Aziraphale’s palm throbbed with his pulse but it was so pleasant to have Crowley this pliant and wrecked that he hardly noticed.

He spanked Crowley until his bottom was almost purple, occasionally pausing to drag his nails across the tortured skin and encourage Crowley’s fevered thrusting. A wet patch had long since soaked through Aziraphale’s trousers, making them cling to his thigh.

Judging by Crowley’s breathing and jerky movements, his release was building to a peak. Aziraphale reached across Crowley’s back to grasp his buttock with the hand that had been petting his hair, digging his fingertips into the hot, tender skin. He sucked the index finger of his own thrumming hand and then sent it teasing down Crowley’s cleft to circle his hole.

The change in attack, blending pleasure and pain into one overwhelming sensation, sent Crowley crashing over his edge. His hips shuddered against Aziraphale’s leg as a wet warmth seeped into the fabric of his trousers.

“Oh fuck, Aziraphale, I’m sorry!” Crowley said as he scrambled back, all uncoordinated limbs and post-orgasmic flush.

“Hush,” said Aziraphale, catching Crowley before he could escape completely and drawing him back into his lap, the mess already vanished with a thought. “You did just as I wanted you to, my love, now let me make a fuss of you.”

Crowley relaxed into the familiar embrace of Aziraphale’s arms, hissing as his sensitive flesh rubbed against the corduroy of Aziraphale’s trousers. Once he was settled comfortably, Aziraphale kissed and petted and praised him until there could be no doubt that Crowley was loved and accepted, just as he was, masochistic tendencies and all.


End file.
